What Dreams Are Made Of
by vkay
Summary: Draco unexpectedly finds a valuable item of Harry's that leads to spying, secrets and eventual companionship. But, as Draco begins to realise his feelings, is simply being friends enough? Post-OotP and DH slash.
1. Behind A White Rose

Summary: Sixth year at Hogwarts. Draco unexpectedly finds a valuable item of Harry's that led to spying, secrets and slash! 

Warnings: This is **post-OotP**, so if you haven't read the book (for some reason), you'll be in the risk of finding spoilers. Also, this is going to be D/H **slash** so if you don't like, save me and yourself the trouble of reading any further. Another thing is that this work has not been through a beta. If you happen to find any mistakes, I would greatly appreciate it if you'd point it out for me so I can fix it.

Disclaimer: Obviously, Harry Potter and the rest of the gang do not belong to me. 

  
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What Dreams Are Made Of  
I: Behind a White Rose  
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Harry sat himself down at the edge of the large window, and promptly pulled his legs up, hugging them close to his body as his head swivelled to the view on the right.

  
It was raining outside. Earlier that day, the clouds had gathered up in a gloomy grey overcast, refusing the much needed rain. Now, the heavens opened up and the water poured down heavily, its tapping sound heard from its contact on the school's stone walls and glass panes, creating countless tears from invisible eyes that hesitantly trickled downwards. The sudden downpour had almost seemed sacred to Harry, who alone in the room was watching the event; it seemed as if the sky was crying its flood of tears, but only for Harry to witness. It was as if the sky was crying for him.  


It had been the third consecutive day that Harry had come to this room. His insomnia, the rather amusing but terribly annoying sleeping noises that emitted from his dorm-mates, and his increased desire of privacy led him to wander the deserted corridors on that first night. It had only been intended as a walk, and only by chance did he discover the well-concealed room behind a painting in the North Tower, quite near the trapdoor that led to his Divination classroom. He had never known that the room existed, as he never paid attention to his surroundings on the tiresome trips to Divination classes, although after thinking about it, he did seem to recall a square box, shaping this room on his treasured Marauder's Map.

The room itself was quite dull. The walls were simply the cold stone that made up the rest of Hogwarts, with no designs, paintings or tapestry as decoration. At the very end of the room, however, stood a large window, which overlooked not only the lake, but also the hills behind it. It was a picturesque panorama of blue and green in the day. 

This night, none of this could be seen as the clouds covered the normally bright moon, and the torrents of rain made it impossible to see further than a few metres. 

He was home at last. The summer holidays had seemed to drag on forever, and the emptiness he had felt was smothering. Besides doing chores for the Dursleys, he had just sat in his room, engrossed in his thoughts of the Department of Mysteries. Of Voldemort. Ofof Sirius.

He had blamed himself. Despite his friends' attempted words of reassurance, "It's not your fault, Harry" and the various concerned letters that asked him to cheer up, he still had not been able to shake the fact that he was, ultimately, responsible for Sirius' death. If only he had thought it through, understood the situation before he took control. If only he had not let his ego get in the way, then maybe his godfather would still be alive.  


During the nights of pondering in the summer, the shock of painful reality finally went through his numbed brain. Not everything had happy endings. Sirius _was_ dead, and it was utterly, utterly real. This was nothing like the adventures in his past years. Sure, there had been the thrill of danger and near-death experiences, but he had always managed to succeed one way or another. He had kept the Philosopher's Stone out of Voldemort's grasp, rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets very much alive, and although things did not go as smoothly in the third year, Harry had immersed in the relish of having a godfather. Even in his fourth year, when Cedric had died, it had been painful, yet it had seemed almost surreal to Harry. After all, as he guiltily admitted, he hadn't been that close to Cedric.

Never having a father he could actually remember, Sirius was that figure, becoming as Harry had considered, his only true relative. But even that had been taken away from him. Not only had he lost schoolmates and family, he had also endangered the lives of his friends. They had been fighting with real Death Eaters. What if they were killed? 

As he dwelled in his guilty conscience, he had discovered that as much as it was his fault for all the devastation around him, more of it had been Voldemort's fault. Everything led back to Voldemort. It was him who had murdered Harry's parents. It was him who forced Harry the responsibility of being the saviour of the world. It was Voldemort who gave the command to kill Cedric, and indirectly, Sirius.

The emptiness that had invaded him was torn open in a surge of anger, and the ferocious desire for revenge. He _needed_ to defeat Voldemort, if not for himself, but for Sirius, for Cedric, and for his parents.

And so he began doing the only thing he could do in summer. He had read through all of the books he had required for school in the past years, with the exception of Lockhart's collection. Books had never seemed important to Harry before - he had always preferred to get up and do something instead of sitting down to study. Besides, it had always been Hermione's area - researching the details to defeat the enemy. But Hermione was not going to be the one to kill Voldemort. It was Harry, just as the prophecy states, and just how he would have liked it. At least his friends would not be in risk during the battle.  


Some of the books he read through had been hardly enjoyable, however he did manage to memorise several useful spells and discover a few interesting facts about the wizarding world. He even made the accomplishment of precisely understanding some helpful potions, knowing their properties and ingredients.

When he had finished, Harry had promptly sent Hedwig with a brief message to Hermione to purchase his sixth year's books for him, and to send it to him right away.

Of course, Harry would have never read so many books and absorbed so much information so quickly without the help of Occlumency - his concentration was much too short, and he tended to procrastinate on thoughts of last year, effectively making him thoroughly depressed and unable to study on further.  


Occlumency, another area Harry had been determined to perfect, assisted him in clearing his mind and enhancing focus, which made reading significantly easier. At first, Harry had not been sure that his practices have worked, after all, there was no one aggressively raiding through his mind at Privet Drive as Snape had done. But when his nightmares got less frequent, and he started to see less of Voldemort's habits for entertainment (whether they had been real or not, Harry did not know, and by caution sent an account of his dreams every occurrence to Dumbledore), he knew he was progressing. In fact, Harry had even been surprised at his growing Occlumency powers.

On the day of his sixteenth birthday, Harry had been immersed in a book, _Transfiguration Transcendence for Sixth Years by Trudy Hardwell_, when he had suddenly got the impression that someone was standing outside his door. At first he had thought that it was ridiculous, but it tickled him, provoking him to concentrate deeper and find out who it was. Harry realised that he could _feel_ his aunt standing by the entrance of his room. However, when no movement was made, Harry once again began doubting himself. That is, until there came a quick, light tap on his door. He closed his book and walked over to indeed find his aunt, oddly nervous, her eyes flitting constantly between him and the corridor. Hastily, she muttered a "Happy Birthday" and handed the surprised Harry a cupcake before heading back towards the stairs. 

Harry, too shocked by the visit and that she had actually _remembered_ his birthday, stalled his urgent call, "Aunt Petunia." 

She turned around, eyes centring on him this time. 

"Thank you."

She gave Harry a warm smile, something he had never received from her before, and hurriedly retreated down the stairs.

Of course, the gift wasn't very spectacular, but Harry decided, returning to his book with a mouthful of chocolate cake, at least she had been nice for once.

The discovery of this power had amazed Harry, and on further experimentation, understood that it, along with the ability to focus, generally came with a few minutes of calming down and training in his Occlumency beforehand.

With his new skills and knowledge, Harry had returned to Hogwarts more in control, more confident and more determined, which unfortunately, also brought him more attention. For a long time, Harry had a dream of being an ordinary wizard, with a peaceful life shared with family and friends with nothing more to worry about other than getting good marks at school and which team was going to win Quidditch this year. It was always said that if one works hard enough towards their dream, it is always possible to succeed. Yet, Harry's dream could never be acquired - he will permanently be known as the Boy Who Lived. At least, with Voldemort defeated, the world would be at peace. And hopefully, though unlikely, they would let him live out the peaceful part as well.

The new school year also saw the absence of Umbridge (to everyone's relief), and Harry was promptly re-established on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and even made captain. DA was also resumed immediately.

Between all the school work, Quidditch practice and DA meetings, the night was the only time where Harry could settle down and think, although it was quite difficult to do so when he was surrounded by noisy sleepers. Harry had taken to roaming the hallways, until one particular clear night, where the moon hung low and the stars were bright, and Harry had the sudden impulse to go higher and admire the Hogwarts landscape. He had ended up in the North Tower, gazing out a window. Becoming tired, he had leaned on a painting of a white rose that hung on the wall opposite the window. To his astonishment, the painting revealed a doorway, and on later inspection, Harry had discovered that like the painting that led to the kitchens, this one activated by touch, and a gentle push on one of the petals revealed the secret room. Harry had ventured there every night since.

A particularly loud clash of thunder hurled Harry out of his thoughts, and in a sudden sense of fear and urgency he could not explain, he hurriedly left his room to return to the Gryffindor common room. 

As he strode down from the last step and rounded a corner, Harry abruptly got the impression that someone was in the hallway and immediately flattened himself against the wall, holding his breath. Indeed, light, rhythmic footsteps could be heard getting louder and louder Harry prepared himself to run, just in case he was to get caught and the footsteps got softer and softer Harry let out his breath. With caution, he poked his head around the corner to see who it was, just in time to distinguish the hem of a black robe make a turn up the stairs of the North Tower.

Harry managed a relieved smile before he continued moving towards his destination. If he had stayed in that room for a moment longer then he would have been caught. The tower had only one staircase from top to bottom, and the Black-Robed Person would have either found him or the entrance to his secret room if he were to have left at that time with his invisibility cloak.

Two turns and a staircase away from the Gryffindor common room, Harry stopped and swore mentally. His invisibility cloak - he had forgotten it in his haste to leave the room. If he returned to the tower, he might get caught, and yet, he did not fancy the idea of waiting around for the person to come back down - it might take hours. 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and started walking again. He'd just have to get his cloak tomorrow night.

  
~*~*~*~*~*~   
  


It was six minutes after midnight and Draco Malfoy had just finished his prefect duties of patrolling the hallways. He had dragged a disgruntled Pansy out of bed, ignoring her complaints and threats. It was, after all, her turn that night. Sure, he was in Slytherin, but that did not mean he was to neglect his responsibilities.

Draco was supposed to retire for the night, yet the hydric atmosphere and the numerous claps of thunder had left him restless, and instead of going back to the dungeons, he wandered off to the northern part of the castle. He hadn't been to his room since school had started this year. The past few nights were occupied with bubbly Slytherins, all eager to share their holiday stories, homework, and a talk with Snape. 

During his fifth year his mother, on one of the rare occasions, had a conversation with him, and had suggested him a secret room when he had complained about his inability to study due to his housemates. She had even explained that she herself used to refuge there to study to be alone when she was a student at Hogwarts. Draco had visited the room frequently ever since. Yet, he tended to visit this room usually on late nights, as during the day he had no idea if someone was to walk either up or down the tower, and would effectively spot him.

Also, at night times, when he'd peered out the large window and stared out the landscape illuminated in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, it had made him feel as if the display was just for him; that it belonged to him; that the night was in his possession. 

It was his secret room.

Draco had been wholly confident that no one will be able to discover this place. Being situated on the tall North Tower, students would generally be too preoccupied with counting how many steps are left rather than being remotely suspicious of a hidden room.

Reaching his destination, Draco paused in front of the large painting of a white rose. His breathing was shorter than normal due to his unpaused journey up the several flights of stairs, yet his finger reached to the painting with his usual calmness and gently pressed on a petal of the white rose. The painting swung open and Draco stepped through the threshold. 

The room was exactly how he remembered it before the summer holidays. Eyes transfixed on the large window ahead of him, he slowly paced towards it.

Suddenly, a flash of lightening illuminated the room and Draco caught sight of something lying beneath the windowsill.

Cautiously in his amazement and curiosity, he reached a hand towards the object, and encountered liquidy material.

_ Well well well, what do we have here?_ Draco thought as he grasped it with both hands and lifted it for inspection.

The thunder let out a resounding rumble.

_…An invisibility cloak._

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A/N: Hello everyone! *waves* Glad you can make it to the end of the chapter. It is very much appreciated ^_^ Sorry if I pulled it out a bit by putting all the thoughts and descriptionsit's just that I wanted to show how Harry especially, developed during the hols. Hopefully more action next chapter. This is my first HP fic so I really hope that you liked it (and will continue to like it). Please send me a review if you have the time, and I'll try and get chapter ii out asap! Thanks!


	2. Food For Thought

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What Dreams Are Made Of  
II: Food For Thought  
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Draco folded the delicate material carefully as if it were his own, and sat down on the large windowsill, stretched his legs out and pooled the cloak across his lap.

It had to have been Potter's. Invisibility cloaks were extremely rare, and not anyone would be able to have it as a possession. Besides, practically the whole school knew about the legendary cloak that allowed Potter to sneak around in illegal activity, and that aided him all those years back when he ruined the Dark Lord's plans in his first year. Despite the common knowledge, the item remained safe from confiscation. Rumour also had it that it was Dumbledore who gave it to his Gryffindor Wonder Boy. It just showed that you can get away with anything if you had a bloody scar on your forehead. 

Draco ran his hand over the cloak, feeling its texture.

Even his family did not own an item such as this. Sure, they had the money. Draco had addressed this matter once to his father, at the end of his first year, and was told harshly that they had no need for such things as these - a Malfoy does not hide from anyone. 

_Or probably he just couldn't get one_, Draco assessed.

To everyone else, he probably seemed spoilt, but Draco hardly ever got anything he wanted. Most items were all inappropriate for a Malfoy one way or another. Even attention from the family was hard to come by. Unless, of course, they were on the topic of death, torture and madness, or "How did you manage to lose to Potter again?!"

Draco obviously had a real positive relationship with his family.

Still, he ought not to be too displeased about it. After all, they had given him class, status, and irresistible fair looks. Yet, the family structure was so impersonal and so _formal_ that they appeared to be one another's guests rather than relatives.

Draco's mother did not talk to him frequently. He was sure she cared for him to some extent, but she prefered to be in her own company. That was just the way she was.

And Lucius - the father who always managed to find a mistake in Draco's achievements. It seemed as if no matter how well Draco had done in a particular area, he could never make his father truly proud. Lucius would comment on needed improvements, and the marks that he'd lost but should have got.

There was one topic that Draco's father was intensely passionate about. The Dark Lord. It was one of the only topics that did not earn him a "Be quiet, Draco. Do use your manners." or another means to shut him up. His father would ramble on his usual repetitive speech about "cleansing the world of filthy mudbloods and useless muggles." Draco was pretty sure he could make a quality performance of his father's speech had he wished to.

Clearly, he did not care much for the Dark Lord. The thought of having all the money, the looks, the pureblooded reputation wholly just to serve another seemed repulsive to Draco somehow. He did not wish to be dominated like that. Besides, the Dark Lord had been defeated more than once by a kid.

Harry Potter. Everything seemed to relate back to him. Draco's rival, his father's enemy, the Dark Lord's curse (after all, the curse did rebound back to him). Potter stood for all the goodness against the evil. Seeing as Draco was unsatisfied with his father's ideals, did Draco want to be on Potter's side? His mind summoned up an image of him surrounded by Potter and his group of friends in all the Gryffindorness in the face of danger, "Let's all charge together!" followed by a group cuddle session.

Draco visibly cringed at the thought. How inappropriate for a Malfoy.

He concluded that he did not want to participate in either Potter's Peace Club or the Dark Lord's Destroy Everything Association.

But then, what did he want?

After a few minutes of contemplation, Draco realised the thunder storm had stopped, and the rhythmic drizzle of rain had chased away his restlessness. Maybe he could catch a few hours of sleep before class tomorrow.

He stood up, and gently passed his hand over his hair to make sure it was still smoothed down. Then, he confidently walked out of the room, heading for the dungeons, his hand clutching Potter's cloak.

Draco decided that he'd introspect about deep and meaningful thoughts later. Now, he needed to get some sleep. After all, he'll be busy being invisible tomorrow.

  
~*~*~*~*~*~   
  


Harry woke up to the normal sounds of his dorm-mates rushing around to get ready before breakfast. Their dorm did not have enough bathrooms for all of them at the same time, so attempts were made every morning to snatch one before they had to wait for the next available. However, they always managed to wake up at around the same time and the Toilet War began. Agility and aggression were the essense, otherwise the bathroom would be stolen by a more worthy opponent.

As usual, the loud complaints and hurried preparations got Harry out of bed. He put on his glasses, let out a wide yawn and ran a hand through his hair, just to see a bathroom door opening. With a surge of energy and a startling loud cry, he raced to his goal. Ron had barely stepped out before Harry slammed the door behind him in the now occupied bathroom.

A loud, "Hey! That's not fair!" came a second later, and Harry laughed out loud at Seamus' obvious distress.

He was going to be fast anyway, as he was absolutely starving for breakfast.

  
  
Breakfast in Hogwarts was the meal that had the least amount of participation. The mornings were generally engrossed with oversleeping, preparations in front of the mirror, and last minute attempts to complete homework that had been put off until the night before the due date. Many also saw it as an unnecessary meal, and preferred to skip it.

Harry thought that this was preposterous. Every morning his stomach would growl with hunger. Once, he had sacrificed his breakfast for a few more minutes of sleeping, and the dreadful noise had persisted all through his morning classes, making him inattentive to the lesson, and substantially embarrassed when several classmates sniggered at his uncontrollable outbursts. Harry had tried to make it to breakfast every morning after that. 

Besides, Harry decided that the delicious, full meal always gave him the energy to cope with each event-filled day. Lunch and dinner mattered less to him.

Sitting down at his usual seat next to Ron and Seamus (whose spot was still empty), Harry immediately began to pile food onto his plate. Bacon, hash browns, eggs, sausages, beans, and toast soon stacked neatly in front of him. Smiling with approval and anticipation, Harry began his breakfast.

Ron had a similar pile, and was eating with great speed. Hermione, opposite him, had already finished, and was taking the time to re-check her Transfiguration essay, which was due first period. Satisfied that it was as good as it could be, and that she had not missed out on anything, she turned to her friends.

"Harry, have you thought about the next DA meeting? It has been a while since the last one, and I was thinking that if you were free tonight..."

"Sorry Hermione," said Harry after taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice, "we've got Quidditch practice this evening."

"Yeah, and it's the first practice since school started," Ron added, his unusually serious face emphasising the importance of the occasion.

"How about tomorrow?" Harry suggested, noticing Hermione's annoyed look.

She brightened immediately. "Okay then! Half an hour after dinner?"

"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed, following a nod from a chewing Ron. "Do you think it's too short of a notice? What if they have homework and stuff?"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll manage," exclaimed Hermione with certainty.

"Besides," said Ron as he reached to fork another sausage, "school had started little over a week ago. There wouldn't be much homework anyway."

"I suppose." 

Already, students were dispersing from the Great Hall. It was nearly time for first class. Hurriedly, Harry finished his food and drank his second cup of pumpkin juice.

"Don't forget to notify the other members," reminded Hermione as they stood up and began heading towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"Yeah, I'll do it right before lunch," Harry assured her.

Their journey was interrupted as the three dodged a zooming Seamus, rushing to the direction of the Great Hall.

  
~*~*~*~*~*~   
  


Draco barely missed the careless Gryffindor as he madly raced past him. Turning away from Potter and his sidekicks, he walked briskly towards the Slytherin common rooms, careful to avoid the students. He was wearing an invisibility cloak after all. He had to stash it away before class started.

After waking up and going through his daily morning routine, Draco had taken out Potter's cloak, deciding to use the time before class to test it out. And what better place to begin than with Potter himself.

He had waited patiently for Potter's late entrance, occasionally glancing at the Slytherin table across the hall. Since he tended to miss meals once in a while, his housemates were accustomed to his absence at the breakfast table and took no notice of his disappearance.

When Potter finally arrived and sat down at the table, Draco had positioned himself only a short distance behind the Gryffindor so as to be able to hear him and without accidentally bumping anyone who might have been walking past.

Draco watched with fascination as Potter began devouring his loaded plate. It must be a miracle that he still manages to stay in shape. Crabbe and Goyle, also large eaters, were by far not as thin as he was. Although, it was harder to tell beneath the school robes. Unintentionally, an image of a flabby Potter wavered into Draco's mind, and he pushed it out with disgust. 

He had also been tempted to levitate the jug of pumpkin juice to pour over their heads, but restrained himself as it would give him away.

His attentions managed to tear away from the food as they began talking. He was most intrigued at the topic of the DA meeting. Granger had mentioned that there were other members, so it had to have been a club of some sort. A fanclub perhaps? Draco wondered at what DA stood for. _The Draco Admirers_, he thought with a smirk.

Well, whatever it was, he'd find out tomorrow, after dinner.

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A/N: Hello again! First, I'd like to thank all the reviewers who had given me feedback of their enjoyment of the last chapter. Hopefully you'd like this one as well ^_^ And, also, just to clarify a question that might be asked, "Why didn't Harry sense Draco behind him at breakfast?" Let's just say that he was a little preoccupied with the food. And he didn't practice Occlumency. More details on that later. Well, thanks for tuning in on this fic so far, and if you'd like to submit a review some time, I'd be extremely happy ^_^


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